


May Twelfth

by noblydonedonnanoble



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-12
Updated: 2012-05-12
Packaged: 2017-11-05 06:17:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noblydonedonnanoble/pseuds/noblydonedonnanoble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's her birthday.</p>
            </blockquote>





	May Twelfth

            It’s her birthday.

            Normally, I steer my mind away from her whenever it starts to stray in that direction. And that seems to happen quite a lot.

            But on her birthday? I allow myself an exception. I let my mind wander and explore the past because I _miss it_. Sometimes, we all need to dwell on times long forgotten, and I figure that  there’s no better way to spend her birthday than remembering.

            So, for once, I’m able to think.

            I think about her hands, and how much I wish I could be holding them. I wish they could roam across my body as freely as they once did.

            I think about her hair. I think about how easy it felt to sit beside her and stroke her hair without anybody noticing. I could curl her hair around my fingers and she would know, while everyone else would be completely oblivious.

            I think about her voice, her whispered words in my ear as we drifted off to sleep each night and as I woke up each morning.

            I think about her lips grazing along my skin, the way I could feel her teasing smile only barely pressing against my jaw, my shoulder blades, my ribs and my hip bones.

            Now I don’t have any of that. At least not with her. I’ve got someone else. And now, a different man is around to savor her hands, her hair, her voice… Her lips. And so, under normal circumstances I keep myself from remembering because really, what good does it do?

            On her birthday, though… I allow my memories to consume me.

            Because I think the best way to spend her birthday is to savor our best times.

            I miss her. Every day, I miss her. But on today of all days, I _let_ myself miss her. I don’t hate the ache that I feel for her.

            Today, I’m allowed to love her.


End file.
